A Storm Front Novel

“There’s my ride,” she said, pointing to the gleaming black Cadillac just pulling under the breezeway. The orderly began pushing her toward the exit, but Cari’s gaze was fixed on the man striding purposefully toward the doors.

He must have run home, because he was dressed now in dark slacks and a white knit shirt. Besides the fact that he was undeniably stunning, he emanated power. Cari couldn’t help but wonder why Susan had never mentioned that.

“Ah…ready to go, I see,” Mike said, as the orderly pushed her wheelchair through the exit doors and up to his car. “Easy does it,” he said gently, helping Cari out of the wheelchair and into the front seat, then proceeding to buckle her in as if she were a child.

“Thank you,” she said, as Mike leaned across her to fasten the seat belt.

At the sound of the click, she suddenly flinched.

He frowned. “Damn. Did I hurt you?”

“No. I’m just jumpy, I guess.”

“You’re allowed,” Mike said softly, but instead of pulling back, he gazed straight into her eyes. With less than a foot between them, he carefully eyed the bruises on her skin and the dark shadows under her eyes, and resisted the urge to kiss her.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said softly.

Cari’s gut knotted. He was so close she could have counted his eyelashes. Then she amended the thought. They were too thick to count. The last man she’d been this close to had been Lance, but that was when they’d still been intimate. The thought of Lance killed the surge of interest she’d just felt, as her mood shifted to anxiety.

Lance!

She couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he was doing now. Probably privately congratulating himself on the news of her death while playing the part of the grieving friend and ex-lover all over Bordelaise.

Mike gave her another quick glance, then closed the door and circled the car to slide in behind the wheel. “Are you okay?”

She nodded.

“Still up to stopping by Susan’s house? And please don’t hesitate to say so if you’re not. I can easily get some stuff for you later.”

“No, no, I’d rather do it myself, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing,” Mike said, then put the car in gear and headed for Susan’s. Within fifteen minutes, he was pulling into the driveway. “Hang on,” he said, as he killed the engine. “I’ll help you out.”

Cari waited for him once again, grateful for his assistance as he steadied her on the way to the door. The more time passed, the stiffer she was getting. There were bruises all over her body, which left her with nothing but guesses as to what had happened to her during the tornado.

Mike was going through his own set of issues. He steeled himself as he opened the door, knowing Susan would never greet him again with that happy smile. Still, whatever it was he was feeling, it was nothing compared to what must be going through Cari’s mind.

When he glanced at her, he knew his instincts had been right. She looked like a lost child. Without thinking, he slid his arm around her shoulders, bracing her for what lay ahead.

“Chin up, tough stuff.”

Cari nodded as she gazed around the room. “I haven’t been here in a couple of months, but I know where everything is.”

“I’m coming with you,” Mike said. “No lifting, pushing or pulling for you until you’re better. Oh. Wait. I brought one of my suitcases for you to pack up some stuff. I’ll go get it out of the car.”

Cari moved farther into the living room as Mike ran back out.

The first thing she noticed was the flashing light on Susan’s answering machine. Once again, she was reminded of how involved her impersonation was becoming. There must be appointments to cancel, people who would be expecting answers to their calls. She looked for a pen and paper, and then sat down in the desk chair and punched Play.

The first three calls were nothing more than reminders for appointments. But it was the fourth call that left her shaking.

“Miss Blackwell. I’m Hershel Porter, with the parish police in Bordelaise. Lance Morgan gave me your name and number. I need you to call me back at your earliest convenience regarding a matter of extreme importance.”

“Oh Lord,” Cari said. She knew what was coming. Susan, being the next of kin, was about to be notified of the deaths.

Mike came back in with the suitcase, saw her face and hurried to her.

“What’s wrong?”

Cari played back the message without speaking.

Midway through, Mike’s hand was on her shoulder. By the time the message was over, he knew she had yet another bridge to cross. She was about to become the next of kin—to her own death.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Make the call,” she said, then took a deep breath, bracing herself for what was coming.

Mike pulled up a chair and sat down beside her.

“I’m here if you need me.”

Cari tried to smile but felt too much like weeping to complete the effort. Her hands were shaking as she dialed the number, then waited for the call to go through. When the police picked up, she went another step deeper into her impersonation of Susan by lengthening her drawl and softening her tone.

“This is Susan Blackwell. I’m returning a message from Chief Porter.”

“Oh!” the dispatcher said. “One minute, please.”

Cari recognized Vera’s voice. She wanted nothing more than to weep on her old friend’s shoulder. Instead she struggled to maintain composure, waiting for Hershel to come on the line. When she finally heard him, she bit her lip, needing pain to shift her focus from breaking down.

“Miss Blackwell?”

“Yes. I had a message to call you?”

She heard him take a deep breath and knew this wasn’t easy for him. He was a few years older than she was, but, like her, he’d been born and raised in Bordelaise.

“Miss Blackwell, I don’t know if you remember me or not. I think we’ve met several times through the years.”

“Yes, I remember you,” Cari said. “Please…what’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news. The tornado that came through Bordelaise on Sunday hit your aunt and uncle’s property. I’m so sorry to tell you, but Frank, Maggie and your cousin were all killed.”

Cari’s breath caught. Hearing it said aloud—like this—sealed the awful truth. She didn’t have to fake the sorrow.

“Oh Lord… Lord,” she said softly.

“They were at the farm when the tornado hit. Their bodies have been taken to Sumner’s Funeral Home here in Bordelaise. The funeral director has been notified and is expecting your call. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Cari’s voice was shaking. She felt like she was going to throw up. “They’re all the family I had left.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

Cari started to cry.

“Would you like the number to the funeral home?” Porter asked.

“Yes…no…yes, I guess.”

All the while Cari was saying the words, the weight of her reality was hitting anew. By the time she got the number, she was sobbing. She disconnected, then collapsed.

“I can’t do this. I can’t. I need to see my mother. My daddy. Susan… I can’t bury them long distance. I have to be there.”

Mike ached for her. This was, in truth, a hell of a mess. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out,” he said, then handed her his handkerchief. “Are you going to call the funeral home now?”

Cari wiped her eyes, blew her nose, then took a deep breath. “Not yet. I need to think a few minutes. I think I’ll go pack first. Maybe by the time I’m finished, I’ll be able to face talking to someone else.”

“What can I do?” Mike asked.

She pointed to the suitcase. “Carry that into the bedroom for me, I guess.”

“Absolutely,” he said, and followed her down the hall.

Cari started into Susan’s bedroom, then hesitated, once again, staggered by the enormity of what she was about to do. But all it took was remembering Lance and the dead man, and she knew she had no choice. She set her jaw, then strode across the room to the closet as Mike put the suitcase on the bed.

“Let me know when you’re through and I’ll carry it to the car for you,” he said, then left her on her own.

Cari stared at the closet door for a few more moments, then took a deep breath and reached for the knob. The moment she opened the closet, the scent of lavender hit her like a slap in the face. She shuddered. Lavender. A scent she’d always associated with Susan. Now it would be hers—at least for a time.

Gritting her teeth, she quickly sorted through the clothes on the hangers, choosing several outfits, then carrying them to the bed. She packed quickly, anxious to be gone before her emotions caught up with her again. By the time she’d filled the suitcase, she also had underwear, shoes and sleepwear, along with an assortment of Susan’s makeup. Besides being the same height and size, they shared the same skin tone and hair color, so whatever she used would pass, although the lipstick colors were more subdued than what she would have worn.

She fastened the suitcase and started to drag it off the bed, then remembered the doctor’s orders and stopped. Healing was what she had to do first. Undoing the rest of this mess would come later.

As she started down the hall, the sound of her footsteps on the hardwood floors alerted Mike. He came to meet her, his expression wreathed in concern.

“How you doing, cher?”

The tenderness in his voice was nearly her undoing. “Not as well as I’d like,” Cari said. “The suitcase is on the bed. Thank you for carrying it for me.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, leaving her to make her way into the living room.

Suddenly anxious to be out of this house and away from her cousin’s ghost, she went back to the desk and eased down in the chair. There was still the matter of calling Sumner’s Funeral Home, but while she’d been packing, she had come up with a plan.

Her head was pounding, and there was a bitter taste in her mouth as she picked up the phone. “God. I need this day to be over,” she muttered, and made another call to Bordelaise.

Her call was answered promptly, and once again, she recognized the voice. Sarah Beth Spellman had worked for Sumner’s for as long as Cari could remember, which meant she needed to be careful not to give herself away.

“Sumner’s Funeral Home, Sarah Beth Spellman speaking.”

“This is Susan Blackwell. I’ve been told the North family…my family members…were taken there.”

“Yes, they’re here,” Sarah Beth said. “And, honey…I just want you to know I’m so sorry.”

Cari pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, trying not to say too much, or somehow give herself away, but Sarah Beth’s sympathy was getting to her. It was even more difficult to talk to her than it had been talking to Hershel Porter.

“Thank you,” Cari said shakily.

Sarah Beth continued. “We all know you’re the only surviving family member, so the lawyer for the family has had us wait until you were notified to see if you wanted to be the one to make funeral arrangements.”

“I do…. I just have a couple of problems right now,” Cari said.

“You just name a day and time when you want to come in and make arrangements. We’ll do everything we can to make this as easy as possible for you.”

Cari took a deep breath. Lord help me make this work. “I’m grateful for your offer, but I’m going to have to make an unusual request of you.”

“We’ll be honored to do anything we can,” Sarah Beth said.

“I suffered a serious accident a couple of days ago. I just got out of the hospital this morning, and at the moment I’m unable to travel. Not being able to make arrangements in person is devastating to me, but I have no choice. Would it be asking too much if you would—”

At that moment Cari caught a glimpse of a framed photo of herself and Susan, taken last Christmas in front of her mom and dad’s Christmas tree, and came undone. With her focus gone, she was unable to stop the harsh, ugly sobs tearing up her throat.

“I’m sorry… I can’t… I—”

Suddenly the phone was taken out of her hands. She was vaguely aware of Mike’s deep, steady voice, explaining who he was to Sarah Beth and making decisions she couldn’t make for herself. Heartsick to the depths of her soul, she pushed herself up from the chair and stumbled into the kitchen.

She got a glass from the cabinet and thrust it under the faucet, letting it fill, then overflow, unable to stop weeping long enough to take a drink. Suddenly Mike’s arms were around her, and then he was taking the glass out of her hands and pulling her hard against his chest. She didn’t know he was crying with her, but it wouldn’t have mattered.

“Go ahead and cry, cher…cry,” he said softly. “Let it all go. I know…. I know…. It hurts like hell, and you and I both know it’s not fair. I’m sorry. I’m just so, so sorry.”

Cari’s hands were fisted, her anger only slightly less than her sorrow. She tried to push away, but he wouldn’t let her go. Finally she collapsed against him as she screamed, “God…oh God…all I keep wanting to ask is why? Why did they all have to die? Why didn’t I die with them? How can a life go from happy to over that fast?”

“But your life isn’t over,” Mike said. “I don’t know why this happened the way it did, but you owe it to yourself and to your family not to waste what you’ve been given. Live for yourself, and for them.”

Cari knew he was right, and she held on to Mike as if he were her lifeline, leaning on his strength because all of hers was gone. She cried until her eyes were swollen and it hurt to breathe. And with the last of her tears, her legs went out from under her and the room began to spin.

Mike grabbed her just as she went limp. “We’ve been here too long,” he muttered, and carried her into the living room, out the door and back into his car. He cupped her cheek briefly. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, then closed the door.

Cari leaned against the headrest and closed her eyes, wanting this all to be nothing but a nightmare. A hell on earth that would go away just as soon as she opened her eyes. But when she did, all she saw was Mike coming out of the house with a suitcase full of her cousin’s clothes. Their gazes met.

Her heart thudded hard against her chest.

Oh, sweet Jesus. He’s been crying, too.

It was then that she remembered that he, too, had a reason to grieve.

Susan.

Had their relationship been more than boss and employee?

Had he loved her?

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